


Would I Lie To You?

by BrightYellowBumblebee



Series: Somebody to Love [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora: I don't know how to human but I'm gonna sit back and watch the fire, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catra: I'm telling you the truth, Everyone else: Mmm'kay, F/F, Kyle: is the person we want NOWHERE near theatre, Lies, Lonnie: is the badass scrub nurse we all want in theatre, Mermista and Entrapta: the chaotic neutral we all want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightYellowBumblebee/pseuds/BrightYellowBumblebee
Summary: Catra had told her work colleagues many times about her wife.It wasn't her fault they didn't believe she existed.It wasn't her fault they didn't believe she was a princess.She'd told them.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Somebody to Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962157
Comments: 71
Kudos: 621





	Would I Lie To You?

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get this bunny out. 
> 
> I'm sorry: irregular, sporadic updates of SoS will continue.
> 
> You may have guessed, I like song titles as fic titles.
> 
> In the UK, the doctor grades are: consultant, registrar, house officer (senior and junior) aka: god, middle management and minion. Anything that is not a consultant is called a junior doctor and it takes multiple years, postgraduate exams and experience to level up. 
> 
> Some bits have been dramatised for effect. 
> 
> * Extra brownie points if you catch the reference to one of my favourite childhood films *

Queen Marlena Hospital, Brightmoon, was a towering monolith and a beacon of medical innovation. It was a flagship, tertiary centre, where people were transferred from all over the country to receive specialist care, ranging from cardiothoracic operations to pioneering advancements in cancer treatment. It sprawled like an eyesore over the landscape of Brightmoon, its construction being a point of contention for the locals. But, unlike many of its sister hospitals, it tried to be slightly more eco-friendly, its roof plastered with greenery and eastern and western walls plastered with solar panels. 

In direct contrast to the futuristic hospital, the Doctor’s Mess seemed as though it had been transplanted straight from the Neolithic era. Behind the squeaky clean façade of the hospital laid the outdated Mess, its walls holding memories of decades of medical practice. 

Whilst the hospital advanced and regardless of the number of upgrades and updates the building received, the Mess held its memories firmly. There was a suspicious brown stain on the worksurface from back in the Eighties when two of the surgical registrars sprayed iodine on each other to settle a bet (the bet was whether Trauma and Orthopaedics or General surgeons had better aim. They both lost to the ENT surgeons). There was a pool table in one corner, missing one of its legs and most of its balls from when one of the medics tripped over the ripped carpet and wiped out. The table had been held up by stacks of medical textbooks, last published in the Seventies and last read then as well. 

Bookcases lined with reference books and journals packed the walls, untouched by the passage of time, the advent of internet and the hands of the incoming doctors. The kettle was filled with limescale, older than the young junior doctors now, and the chairs had seen more buttocks than most of them as well. A prehistoric computer sat wheezing in the corner, last being restarted sometime in the early Nineties and running on an equally primitive OS.

It wasn’t as glamourous as the patient waiting rooms, but it was something that the doctors of the hospital could say was theirs. Working in such a big hospital and across many specialties, it was rare for them to meet up and talk, be friends opposed to colleagues, and it was a safe space to vent. 

And, if walls could talk, the walls of the Doctors’ Mess would fill novels. 

Glimmer De Lune, Mess president and medical registrar, was currently staring blearily at the kettle, waiting for it to boil with hazy lavender eyes. Her short pink hair was a mess and she was sure her scrubs had some vomit on them somewhere, but she couldn’t be bothered to find out where. She had been on shift since eight the previous evening and she wouldn’t be allowed home until she had done handover. She’d risked everything to travel the dark corridor to the Mess, pleading to all the Gods above and the Almighty Grey that her bleep didn’t go off in the time it took to brew a drink because she needed this coffee. For the sake of her juniors, her poor, impressionable juniors who looked at her like she knew things and wasn’t just pretending to be her mother, she _needed_ this coffee.

Hearing the beep of the door, she watched as her day colleagues filtered in, all reaching for their respective mugs. It had been said for many years that the Health Service ran on goodwill and coffee. Through squinting eyes, she saw her friends file in in dribs and drabs. She rarely got the chance to see everyone recently, what with being in different specialities, so it was nice to see they were still alive.

Bow Migwi strode in, his travel mug in hand as his messenger bag was draped over one shoulder. She and Bow had been through medical school together so, when presented with his empty mug, she filled it right away with coffee: white, six sugars. His warm brown eyes sparkled with thanks as he gave her a sharp, reassuring hug.

“Almost done, Glim,” he said, referring to her shift, whilst simultaneously looking at the bleep. Glimmer was on tenterhooks as well; it hadn’t gone off in over ten minutes. Perhaps it was dead?

Perhaps she was dead?

Next through the door, as Bow was removing his coat and fishing his dark rimmed glasses from his bag, were Mermista Patel and Christopher Hawkins. Mermista was an anaesthetic registrar, undertaking the specialty because she liked to be the one bossing around the surgeons (although, if anyone asked, it was because her patients were asleep, ergo, silent). Her dark hair was in its trademark braid, ready to be scraped into her theatre cap, as she dragged her long term boyfriend in by his wrist. Christopher Hawkins (“call me Sea Hawk!”) had clapped eyes on Mermista in their first Grand Round meeting and promptly fallen from the stage as he missed a step. Since then, they’d been together but they “weren’t serious, or whatever” according to Mermista. Sea Hawk had decided to specialise in Trauma and Orthopaedics, because he liked hearing about the adventures people got into to cause their broken bones, and he could ride share with Mermista to work. 

“Now remember the rules of a shared list, C?” Apparently, Mermista was anaesthetising Sea Hawk’s list today as the moustachioed surgeon reiterated them back to her, starting with “no pet names” and finishing with “no setting anything on fire!”

Entrapta Hyung squirreled her way through the door next, her long, purple hair that was _frankly_ a dress code violation (it was longer than she was tall) but no one had the stones to tell Entrapta that because she manned the MRI and, as the radiology registrar, she controlled the scanning list order. Back in medical school, she’d come up with a new cooling mechanism for the MRI machine, avoiding using helium and saving a ridiculous amount of money and, since then, Entrapta could do no wrong. Luckily, Entrapta was too good to take advantage of this, and a little too socially inept to notice that she _could_ take advantage of this, as her awareness radar stretched to the MRI machine and the packet of biscuits she was hunting for in the Mess cupboard. Glimmer let out a little squeak as she was shoved to one side so Entrapta could rifle through the cabinet by her hip, desperate to find her digestives before she started. 

“Oh, morning Glimmer! Didn’t see you there!” she called at her airily, her words floating as she skipped back out of the mess, bumping into Perfuma Larson on her way out. 

“Hi Entrapta! Bye Entrapta!” the foamy blonde psychiatric registrar called, unfazed by the lack of response she gained. Turning back, her floaty pink blouse rippling with the movement, she approached the others. 

“Morning Glimmer! Good night?” she asked, dark eyes warm and a literal flower crown on her head. Glimmer hummed noncommittedly, still on shift and not wanting to jinx the final few minutes left. 

“Perfuma, perfect timing!” Bow piped up, having stripped off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, putting his forearms on display (yummy, Glimmer thought). “I wanted to ask you about that new child psychology article that came out-“ Bow was a paediatrics registrar whilst Perfuma was looking to specialise in childhood psychiatry, so they would often have chats like this in the Mess, breaking into spirited debates over the broken recliner chair.

The door creaked open and Scorpia entered, along with the bane of Glimmer’s life. Scorpia Hunt was an emergency medic, working in the Emergency Department with a scary delight that few others had. She was tall and buff, with an intimidating undercut that stopped every drunken rampage that rolled onto her floor, but a kind, welcoming smile that dried up every child’s tears. 

Next to her imposing frame was Catra DeLeon. Catra had trained at Horde university, the rival school to Glimmer’s alma mater and moved to the hospital for her specialist training. Glimmer had run against her for Mess president and won, leading to months of harassment from the cardiothoracic registrar. Emails were spent back and forth, accusing her of everything from nepotism, since her mother was the on the hospital Board, to negligence, insinuating her of misappropriating Mess funds. Anyway, they had a furious bust up in the back office of the Intensive Care Unit one day, their voices loud and shrill with anger as the nurses listened at the door, taking bets on who would win. The outcome was that none of them did (so Juliet, the ICU sister won the bet) as they were pulled into the office of the Head of Human Resources, Spinnerella, who thoroughly chewed them out with a smile on her face. Behind her was Netossa, who headed the Conflict Resolution sessions, arms crossed and face set but it was entirely unneeded because Spinnerella was terrifyingly calm and calmly terrifying. 

In that moment, Glimmer and Catra bonded over their shared fear of the smiling woman. They had both faced overbearing professors, irate consultants and furious relatives but this, by far, was the scariest experience for them both. 

Since then, their relationship was more like siblings: catty insults to each other but a lot of the heat behind them was missing. Catra’s heterochromic eyes were bright as she looked up to Scorpia, blue and amber shining with mirth. She hit the taller, white haired woman on the arm, hilarious in the fact that Catra was about half Scorpia’s size. 

Not that Glimmer had a very high horse to sit on for that.

“Morning Sparkles,” Catra purred and let out her squeaky laugh when Glimmer just flipped her off in return. Sue her, she was too tired to come up with a witty retort. Catra ran her black painted fingers through her short brown hair as she approached the fridge. 

“What’cha got there, Horde scum?” she muttered around the rim of her divine coffee. Catra glanced back to her, mouth twitching into a small, genuine smile as she opened her lunchbox. The sight that greeted Glimmer was too much and she snorted loudly on her drink, getting black coffee up her nose. 

Inside the bag was a limp looking sandwich, a bruised apple and a bottle of juice concentrate. It was one of the saddest lunches Glimmer had ever seen, and she’d seen her own lunchbox efforts. 

“Make it blindfolded this morning, did you?” One of the most frustrating things about Catra, Glimmer had learned, was that she was skilled at a lot of things, like cooking so that could be the only reason why she'd gone from gourmet food to this imitation of a meal. Briefly, the surgeon glared at her venomously but her glare lifted quickly and she was unable to stop a small, pretty smile lighting her face. “Actually, my wife made it for me,” she said and Glimmer was snorting for another reason. 

“You’re married?” 

Catra looked on in confusion and nodded, reaching for her “Don’t Talk To Me” mug to fill with coffee in preparation for her rounds. Glimmer’s brain paused for a moment, it had nothing to do with how long she’d been awake, and everything to do with the bombshell Catra just dropped. Glimmer waited for her brain to restart, running the conversation over in her mind again. 

“Sure thing, Catra. Just be honest and say you made it; don’t lie to me.” Catra must just be teasing her; it was early and they frequently played pranks on each other. This must be one of them.

“I’m not lying, she did make it! She’s just a terrible cook and can't make sandwiches!” Cheeks puffing out indignantly, Catra’s eyes narrowed and she stormed out of the Mess. 

Chuckling behind her, Glimmer shook her head and turned back to her now cool coffee but just as she raised it to her lips, her bleep went off.

“Dammit!”

\--

A few days later, Mermista was anaesthetising for Catra’s cardiothoracic list and it was going well. The patient was stable and Mermista was snorting along with Catra’s scathing commentary to Kyle, the medical student. This was the third time Kyle had been in theatre with them and the first two times, he’d swan dived into a tray on instruments and almost knocked out the scrub nurse, Lonnie. 

Today, Catra was teasing Kyle maliciously as Lonnie egged her on in the background, Kyle’s face a scarlet red as he craned on his step stool to see. They were reaching the end of the valve replacement and Mermista was getting ready to transfer the patient when a phone started ringing. It was a clip of a song that said “Princesses on Parade” and Catra’s head snapped up so fast, she almost gave herself whiplash. 

“Kyle!” she barked, fingers steady on her sutures and eyes never leaving the heart before her but her tone demanding. “Answer my phone!”

The theatre became silent as everyone tried to process that firstly, _that_ was Catra’s ringtone and secondly, she was trusting _Kyle_ with her phone? Kyle scrabbled across the room to where Catra’s phone was stored and answered on speaker.

“Erm, hello? Dr DeLeon’s phone?”

“Hi!” came the chirpy voice from the other end of the line, “is Catra there?”

“I’m here,” Catra spoke up, never looking up from her surgery. “I’m in the middle of an op, idiot.”

“Ooooh, sorry!” the voice laughed sheepishly. “I’ll call you back later then; it’s only a little fire!”

“Wait, wha-“ Catra’s furious growl was cut off by a dial tone when the mysterious caller hung up, leaving the theatre in tense silence.

“Well,” Mermista drawled, a smirk stretching languidly across her lips as she eyed the gossip in front of her. “What’s that about?”

With a huff, Catra muttered “it was just my wife” only to be met by laughter from the scrub team.

“Uh-huh. And, not that it’s my problem, but the fire?”

“She’s a princess. She doesn’t know how to human.” Was the brisk response, Catra’s fingers working faster to close the thorax in front of her so she could, literally, go firefight. Lonnie was passing her retractors and sutures with lightning speed and the fast closure of the incision seemed to be making Kyle sway slightly, having returned to his stool. Mermista had a bet going with Catra as to whether he'd make it through the operation; she had money riding on him collapsing. Perhaps she could convince Lonnie to drop a swab near him.

“Sure it was.”

\--

“So, Catra, I fixed your phone so that it’ll work in the hospital again,” Entrapta chirped up, strolling into the Mess. She threw a smartphone towards Catra, who had commandeered one couch to herself, stretching obnoxiously across seating for three. There was a gaggle of medical students hovering behind her, nowhere to sit and not brave enough to displace the small ball of rage. 

Snatching her phone out of the air, Catra switched it on, with the volume up, and began typing irritatingly.

“Thanks, nerd,” she said, not pausing or looking up from her typing. Entrapta didn’t seem to take this personally, as she breezed past the chairs to the kettle and let out an “ooooh, baby doctors!” when she registered the students in the room. 

With a loud ping, a feminine voice rang through the room calling “me-me” and Catra giggled a little. Scorpia and Perfuma had just walked in at that time, stopping short at the noise from Catra’s phone. They each had a fruit smoothie in their hands, their empty ones holding onto each other and dressed in outside clothes. Clearly, they’d just returned from one of their lunch dates and were getting back for their afternoon duties. 

“What’s a “me-me”?” Scorpia asked, her brow frowning adorably. Entrapta didn’t know either, many things passed over her social radar and Perfuma wasn’t sure either. 

“It’s how my wife says meme,” Catra smiled, “it’s so adorably stupid that I recorded it and made it my text alert.”

“How doesn’t she know how to say meme?” Perfuma mused, fingers gently removing the flowers from her hair as she prepared to return to clinical duties. 

“She was sheltered from the world growing up,” was Catra’s response. Entrapta looked across at the other two clinicians (the students didn’t count and were promptly ignored), only to see they were just as confused. Good, she wasn’t missing something obvious then. Perfuma, as the most socially attuned of the three, smiled gently and turned to leave with Scorpia. 

“Of course Catra,”

\--

Sea Hawk was running late; he was supposed to be meeting Mermista after work today to take her shopping but he’d managed to leave his car keys in the Mess. With her (beautifully) pouting and (adorably) flicking her braid over one shoulder, she had waved him back to get them, agreeing cordially and magnanimously to wait for ten minutes for him. 

He crashed back into the Mess to find it empty barring Catra, who was in the process of hitting her hand against the dinosaur-desktop in the corner. “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” The litany was echoing outwards, and with every curse, her slaps became increasingly harder.

(Sea Hawk knew how strong Catra’s arms were; you needed upper body strength to pull apart ribcages on a daily basis and he had seen her, literally, piledrive a drunk who was irritating Scorpia one night. He feared for the computer, not because it was useful, but because it was theirs.)

“Everything alright Catra?” he asked, approaching where he’d thrown his bag earlier and hoping his keys were there. As he crouched to look under the pool table, he heard Catra’s response in the background. 

“It’s my wife’s birthday soon. What do you get a literal princess?” 

What? Sea Hawk paused for a moment and then realised, she was messing with him.

“I don’t know, a pony?”

“She already has one of those!” Catra moaned, her head hitting the keyboard with a loud crunch. ‘Well, there goes the spacebar,’ he thought, spotting his glinting keys.

“Well, perhaps an adventure? Princesses love adventures!” he called, snagging his keys and scrambling to his feet. Three minutes left, goal!

“Good idea! Thanks, Sea Hawk!” Catra lifter her head from the keyboard and started to furiously type away. Not sure what he’d done, he waved anyway as he left.

“Sure Catra!”

\--

It was chaos in the Emergency Department, Friday night shenanigans combined with a royal visit in the city meant that it was like Friday the thirteenth and a full moon combined. Scorpia had been rushed off her feet, suturing head wounds and managing drunks when the call came in. The red phone in resus trilled to inform them of an incoming chest stabbing. 

Great.

The trauma and cardiothoracic teams were mobilised, all piling into the tiny cubicle in resus. Mermista was at the top, ready to tube the patient if needed, Sea Hawk and Catra arriving in a flurry of scrubs. Catra was on the phone as she ran, managing to wrap up her call and don gloves at the same time.

“Sorry, Princess. Gonna have to cancel, something came up.” There was a pause as she listened to the other end, her eyes rolling heavily in their sockets. “No, I’m not just saying that because your parents are in town. What? No! I don’t “just want to avoid you parents”! I know, I know! I’m just teasing too!”

“Gotta go. I see you later, ok?” And she hung up. Sighing, she shoved her phone away, put on her apron and waited for the patient to arrive. Glancing across at Scorpia, she exchanged a conspiratorial wink.

“In-laws, am I right? They’re even worse if they’re royalty.”

“Sure they are.” And before Scorpia could find out anything more, the patient arrived and the conversation got forgotten in the rush. 

\--

“Right guys, buckle up!” Glimmer crowed from her place, standing on the rickety table in the Mess. It was creaking ominously under her weight and Bow was hovering with trepidation that the table, which was older than her in all likelihood, would collapse. Even the pharmacology bible wouldn’t be able to keep it upright anymore. 

“It’s time for the end of year ball! Your Mess proceeds are going towards a tri-hospital ball with dinner and dancing. Because we’re pooling with two other Messes, we even have carnival games and stuff, so buy your tickets now!” And then, she jumped off the table, landing on the floor with a loud thump.

She was immediately echoed by the table, giving up on its long life. Rest In Pieces, dear table. 

Those sitting in the Mess grabbed their phones to start negotiating rota swaps and dates. Perfuma and Scorpia giggled like small children as Entrapta looked fascinated. Catra had pulled out her phone as well, firing off a rapid text to someone, a curiously uncertain look on her face as she waited for a reply.

Glimmer muttered about official emails and invitations, but Bow’s attention was firmly on Catra as her eyes softened with some unspoken emotion as her phone lit up with an obnoxious “me-me”. 

“Hey Sparkles,” she said, catching the attention of everyone in the Mess. “I’ll need two tickets please. My wife and I are coming.”

“Ohh, is this the Princess?” Mermista asked, only to be interrupted by Glimmer.

“Wait, she’s not real though?” 

“She is real and she is a princess!” Catra huffed loudly, eyes flashing. There was an almost unanimous “sure, Catra” but Bow stayed silent. He could see the truth in Catra’s eyes and honesty in her voice and knew that she was being candid.

“I can’t wait to meet her then,” Bow said, a genuine smile on his face and a thumbs up towards her. He was sure Catra was married and, perhaps to her, her wife was a princess. 

“Yeah. We just need to make sure there’s enough security first. Sparkles, what company are you going through?”

\--

Streamers hung from the ceiling, interspersed with balloons and fairy lights. On the dance floor, there were round tables set up with white tablecloths and pristine silverware. Outside, in an adjacent room, there was a collection of carnival games for after the dinner.

Currently, the crowds of doctors and plus ones were filing in, milling around in the reception area and posing for photographs. Glimmer was flitting around like a butterfly, having organised the event and overseeing it with minute attention. When she got time to breathe, she approached her group of friends who were standing off to one side, glasses of champagne in hand. 

Perfuma was dressed in a floaty, gauzy pink dress, with off the shoulder straps and a gentle drape across her body, flowers sewn onto it in a cascade of femininity. Hanging off her arm was Scorpia, her eyeliner sharp and dark whilst her white haired undercut had been freshened for the ball. Her buff frame was in a sleek black one shoulder dress that hugged her curves and highlighted her height. Perfuma looked proud to have Scorpia on her arm that night, with Scorpia flushing prettily.

Mermista was dressed in a stunning turquoise sari, bordered with gold and gold hoops hanging from her ears. She had put her nose piercing in for the night and her hands were decorated with henna, spiralling designs looping up her forearms. Sea Hawk was standing next to her, dressed sharply in a tuxedo with a turquoise bowtie that matched Mermista and his hair sharply styled, moustache waxed. 

Entrapta was stood behind them, a glass of orange juice in hand as everyone remembered what happened last time she got drunk and vowed _never again_. Her hair was in its characteristic bunches, trailing down her back and she was dressed smartly in a jacketless tuxedo, her waistcoat trimming her waist and a bright garnet tie around her neck. 

Bow was in a classic black tuxedo, his cummerbund and tie dark purple and matching Glimmer’s dress. Her gown was strapless, sweetheart neckline with an empire waist and gently layered chiffon on the skirt. The dress was ombre purple, starting at a soft violet and ending in a deep royal purple. She had strapped herself into ridiculously high heels for the night, seeming taller than usual but needing Bow to be her crutch because she, literally, couldn’t walk right now. This meant that Bow was trailing after her as she flitted around and looked on appreciatively when they paused for a glass with the others.

“So, anyone seen Catra?” Bow asked, scanning the room for the angry cardiothoracics registrar. 

“More importantly, has anyone seen her “wife”?” Glimmer snorted, still not really believing that Catra was married. There was a flurry of head shakes all round. Halfway into her third glass without any food, Glimmer’s brain to mouth filter wasn’t working at its best.

“Do you reckon she’s just hired someone for the night?”

“Glimmer! That’s awful! Catra would never do that!” Scorpia gasped, looking betrayed. 

“Yeah, Glimmer. Don’t you know, she’s married an actual princess,” Mermista droned in, smiling a little. 

“Excuse me?” a voice chimed up behind them and the group turned to look at the newcomer. It was a blonde woman in great shape, her biceps curved nicely under her caped dress. Flowing down her back was a pure white cape that was attached to her shoulders with golden epaulets. The dress beneath was white as well, Grecian in design with golden accents at the waist, highlighting her tiny waist. Her blonde hair was curled gently and piled to one side with a hairclip that winked in the fairy lights. 

“Are you Glimmer?” she asked, her voice soft and unsure as her blue eyes looked at Glimmer. There was something familiar about the woman in front of them, but they couldn’t put their finger on it. Glimmer nodded the affirmative and the blonde let out a pleased, breathy laugh.

“Oh, thank heavens! I got separated from my partner and she said, “if you get lost, head towards the loudest group and find the short one with pink hair. She’s called Glimmer and I’ll find you there”,” she said, blinding them all with a bright smile. Glimmer paused for a moment, trying to parse out the insult in the phrase and tried to decide how to respond. Jumping in, because the blonde looked so genuine that insulting her would be like kicking a puppy (and he knew that what was about to come out of Glimmer’s mouth was an insult), Bow piped up.

“Who did you come with?” 

“Catra! She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon! Do you know her?” she said, beaming with pride as she mentioned Catra’s name. Glimmer nodded on behalf of the group and the blonde crowed: “Isn’t she great?” The rest of the group seemed shocked that the grumpy surgeon was with the eager blonde, Sea Hawk spitting out some of the champagne. The woman seemed not to notice.

“And she’s told me all about you. Let me see if I can guess?” she put her glass of champagne down on the table next to them and tapped her fingers together in excitement. 

“I know you’re Glimmer because she described you, but you’re a medical doctor right? That’s so cool!” Glimmer looked like she’d just been slapped in the face with a fish; she had no idea that Catra spoke of her. “And you must be Bow, the paediatrician! You look like you really suit it!” Bow could feel himself tearing up and he didn’t know why.

“You must be Mermista, Catra’s favourite anaesthetist, and Sea Hawk, erm, you do orthopaedics?” she trailed off, blue eyes searching. Sea Hawk gave her an encouraging thumbs up and reached across, closing Mermista’s wide open mouth at being called Catra’s favourite anaesthetist. 

“Oh, wow, you _must_ be Scorpia! Catra says you’re an awesome emergency doctor, and this must be Perfuma, the “empathetic psychiatrist”,” Scorpia had a few tears trailing her cheeks, knowing Catra had spoken about her like that, and Perfuma was equally touched. Catra had never spoken well of her speciality, insulting it on a good day, so it was very humbling to hear her true thoughts. 

“Oh, do me! Do me!”

“Entrapta, right? Catra said you’d be inquisitive and eager,” Entrapta looked delighted at her description, hands flapping with joy. 

“How’d you know all that?” Glimmer asked, brow raised with curiosity.

“Oh, Catra talks about you all at home,” Catra was never one to share her true thoughts with people and to hear her feelings was humbling. It also struck out Glimmer’s theory: this must really be Catra’s wife, standing before her, in the flesh. She wasn’t imaginary, she wasn’t made up.

“Are you real?” she ended up saying aloud, to the laughter of everyone and a delicate flush crept across the blonde’s cheeks. 

“I think so?”

“And you’re married to Catra? How? How are you not made up, like a unicorn? Or a paid day off?”

The blonde squinted her eyes, trying to hear Glimmer through the loud cackles of her friends and she flapped her hands nervously. “Er, we dated and then got married? But on the subject of unicorns, I once made up that my horse was one. Well, he had wings as well…” she trailed off, noticing the uncomfortable silence in her wake.

“Imagination is important as a child,” Perfuma chimed in.

“I think it’s called an “alicorn",” Bow said and Scorpia nodded in the background.

“Wait, so you actually have a horse?” Sea Hawk spluttered. The blonde nodded and he reverently whispered: “so she wasn’t making it up.”

“Making what up?” 

“During her time at the hospital, Catra has made a number of claims about her wife, being that she’s a princess, an idiot, led a sheltered childhood, has a horse and that she has royal in-laws,” Entrapta summarised with the gentleness and grace of a wrecking ball. The blonde before them paused for a moment and then started laughing, not the polite breathy laugh from earlier, but a stomach grabbing snorting laugh that made her face turn red. 

“She did it! She actually did it!”

The others stared on in mute horror. At least they made Catra’s wife laugh, right? That’d mean she’d kill them nicely?

“What’s going on over here?” a voice came from behind them and their saviour and executioner approached, one and the same in the form of Catra. She was dressed in a muted burgundy blouse, black trousers and had a white and gold cape thrown over one shoulder. Her hair was artfully tussled and her eyeliner wings sharp enough to cut glass. The look of adoration that the blonde gave to Catra quelled any doubts that may have lingered about the legitimacy of their marital claim. 

“Catra!”

“Hey Princess,” Catra purred, plastering herself to the blonde’s side. Between them, there was a couple of inches of height difference but the blonde _melted_ into her and blushed down her neckline at Catra’s kiss on the cheek. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Glimmer squeaked, her eyes wide.

“Just that you’ve been telling everyone I’m a princess,” the blonde smiled, her cheek resting on Catra’s shoulder as she smiled. Catra smiled back, her head tilted to the blonde. It was an interesting dynamic, seeing Catra, the cold aloof surgeon with a tongue that cut like her scalpel, act so adoringly. 

“Well, the bet was for me to tell them,” was her only response and the blonde snorted loudly.

“Yeah, but they didn't believe you when you told them. It’s my win,” Catra turned to the others, champagne glasses frozen in their hands. The photographers circled, snapping pictures and the murmur of background conversations showed that the reception continued around them despite how the group felt time had stopped. 

“You all thought I was lying?” A round of frantic stuttering occurred at Catra’s accusation, Scorpia furiously crossing her hands before her in a flap.

“No! No! No! No! No! No!”

“Of course not, Catra!” Perfuma said, whilst Mermista let out a deadpan “yep” behind her. 

“And anyway,” she whirled towards the blonde, shrugging her from her shoulder, “the bet wasn’t that they believed me, it was that I told the truth.”

“Semantics.”

“No, truth. And now you owe me.”

“Catra, no.”

“Catra, yes!” 

The group watched as the pair picked back and forth in front of them, slowly turning so they were fully facing one another and red in the face as their voices raised. Their tirade was stopped by a throat being cleared behind them and they turned in synchrony to the interloper. It was Lonnie, dressed in a liquorice green pant suit and killer heels, her hair in tidy braids. 

“Excuse me. Aren’t you Princess Adora?” she asked, her voice polite and mildly deferential in a way that no-one had ever heard it in work. As a scrub nurse, the theatre was her domain, regardless of what the surgeons or anaesthetists thought and she ruled her kingdom with a kind dictatorship. With a benign smile, the blonde nodded her head and accepted Lonnie’s outstretched hand. It was in that moment that the gathered crowd remembered their phones and pulled them out. 

Checking even the most basic sites, they pulled a picture of the royal family, King Randor, Queen Marlena and the twin children: Adam and Adora. The same Adora who was standing right there, drinking their mid shelf champagne and listening to their local DJ butcher Ed Sheeran. The same Adora who rocked the world when she married her unnamed wife three years ago in a secret ceremony with no published photos and no public identity known.

What? 

After Lonnie left, the pair turned back to the group that was staring at them agape. “Um, surprise?” Adora said, hands flexing like the world’s worst jazz hands.

“Not really. I mean, I did tell you all,” Catra snarked up from beside her, curling a possessive arm around the _Princess’_ waist. “You just didn’t believe me.”

“Well, it’s a little unbelievable, Catra,” Bow said placatingly and everyone nodded in the background.

“Plus, you don’t really talk about her in work,” Entrapta piped up. Adora let out a gasp of shock.

“You don’t talk about me? Are you embarrassed of me?” she warbled, blue eyes watering to command. Catra took one look at her wife and snorted inelegantly. 

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” she said and Adora’s eyes immediately dried as she chuckled in laughter. 

“I know she doesn’t talk about me directly, she’s not really supposed to,” Adora said, “it’d be a security risk.”

“And then I’d have to stop working and be a trophy wife, which we all know would be a _waste_ of my genius.”

“But you’d be such a pretty trophy wife!”

“Stop it! We both know you’re the trophy in this situation, Miss I-set-a-fire-with-the-microwave.”

“I apologised for that! The microwave buttons were confusing!”

“You’re such an idiot!”

“Yup,” Adora replied, seemingly too happy for the words to be an insult. 

“So Catra was telling the truth?” Glimmer asked and the pair nodded. "You really can't cook or make sandwiches?" Adora looked offended but Catra just laughed uproariously.

"Don't fight it, Dora, I've seen you burn cereal. CEREAL!"

“You really are a princess?” Perfuma had stars in her eyes and squealed when the pair nodded.

“And you did grow up sheltered?” Entrapta said and watched as Adora’s cheeks blushed. 

“Not sheltered, no-“ but she was cut off by Catra.

“Dora, you didn’t know what a GIF was. Admit it, you were sheltered.”

“Fine. But Adam was no better!”

“That’s not an excuse! He’s just as much of a disaster as you!”

“And you have a horse?” Sea Hawk chimed again.

“Yup, Swiftwind.” And “Demon animal.” Came the duel answers from the pair. 

“And you do have royal in-laws?” Scorpia chimed in and Catra laughed. 

“Marlena and Randor are awesome. Adam is so easy to tease; both him and Adora are idiots.” It was blowing the minds of the gathered doctors that they just stood and took some more sips of their champagne. Did that count as treason?

“So, what was the bet?” Mermista asked, brow raised in curiosity and Adora groaned loudly. 

“Well, if Adora won, she got to update our Mess with new furniture,” Catra started and Glimmer’s mouth dropped open. “Why would you not want that!” she moaned into Bow’s lapels, wobbling in her heels. “If I won, I got to post a selfie of us both on Twitter.”

“My family decided it was safe to reveal Catra’s identity to the public. I wanted to do a public statement on the news. Catra said she wanted to break the internet first.”

Sighs danced around the group. “Yup, that sounds like her,” Bow exhaled, facepalming.

There was a brief pause where they exchanged sappy looks of love and then Catra gained a wicked glint in her eye. “Anyway, time to pay up!” Adora groaned, but was quickly silenced by her smirking wife, who leaned in for a kiss. With a photogenic kiss between the pair, Catra snapped a picture on her phone for their bet. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Entrapta piped up, “Can you wait until later tonight? I need to back up my cloud if you’re going to break the internet!” Letting out a large breath, like it was a big ask, Catra nodded and gave her until tomorrow morning and the night of frivolity started.

\--

At six in the morning, Catra uploaded the selfie to Twitter and indeed, they broke the internet. It was down for thirteen hours and Catra cackled about it for a whole six. The remaining seven she was reamed out by Entrapta for breaking the internet whilst Adora was reamed out by her parents, a cackling Adam in the background being entirely unhelpful.

\--

At eight the morning after, Catra stumbled into the Mess to see that her sneaky wife had updated it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think 
> 
> BYB x


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